The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

All of Arnold's resentment had flown right out the window the moment he saw Asher.

Asher said, "You must've been worn out over the past few days. You haven't eaten yet, right?"

He lifted the plastic bag in his hand, waving it in front of Arnold. "I remember you saying you don't eat carbs, but if you're feeling pressured or exhausted, you would reward yourself with some fried chicken. I bought fried chicken for you. I'm not sure which flavor you like, so I bought a few."

Arnold's throat bobbed, salivating with anticipation.

In the end, he still let the man in.

However, Arnold maintained a little of his pride and gave Asher a cold face, sitting on the chair indifferently as he tried hard not to look at the handsome man.

"As a doctor, saving lives is my duty. Even if it's not Chairman Thompson, I'll still do my best. You don't need to be so polite."

"Are you mad?" Ignoring his indifference, Asher asked softly instead.

Arnold's eyelashes fluttered. "Who... Who's mad?"

not mad,

his face flushed, and

the reflection, his lips were tightly pursed, and his eyes and nose were

the plastic bag and opened the boxes, placing

His voice was hoarse, carrying a

a beat, and he met Asher's deep

sick. I am the eldest son.

He quickly grabbed a fried

deeper as he stared at him. "Eat more. You've lost

time. My favorite is still

on a drumstick while sizing him up, his lips curling in a satisfied angle. "Oh,

"Yes." Asher nodded seriously.

Asher's eyes. "Then

eyes glinted with charm, drawing Arnold in